“No.” I turn my head slightly, just enough to look at her silhouette in the dark. “Not in a room that profits off it.”
Silence.
“Then when?” she presses. “When it’s easier for you? When there aren’t cameras everywhere? If you’re looking for a way for the producers not to find out, you’ll be waiting for ten days.”
I hold her gaze in the dark.
“I’m not waiting,” I say quietly. “I’m not running out a clock. And I’m not looking for a loophole.” My voice stays even. Controlled. “I’ll tell you. Soon. I’ll find a way.”
“How soon?” she demands.
“When I can also look at you and know you’re hearing me—not reacting to my words.”
“And if I don’t care about that?” she challenges.
“You will.”
Her breathing stutters.
The words land heavy between us.
The space between us feels charged, alive with everything unsaid.
I could cross it, but I don’t.
“If I wait,” I add quietly, “it won’t be forever.”
Silence stretches.
“So not tonight?” she whispers.
“No,” I agree, voice rougher now. “Not tonight.”
The fan keeps turning.
The ocean keeps crashing.
And the distance between us stays exactly where she needs it—even if it costs me everything to hold it there.
Chapter Three
Day Two
* * *
Lyla
* * *
The morning sun is merciless against my eyes as I walk down to the villa’s kitchen for breakfast. The place hums with two spectrums of controlled chaos: the contestants fill their breakfast plates, nursing hangovers, while the crew murmurs to each other and coordinates which camera goes where.
I sit at the foot of the table, absentmindedly eating a plate of eggs that have long gone cold.
If I have a couple of those citrus margaritas I saw sitting on the bar, would it make this situation any better? Probably not, though the thought is tempting.
Being on a reality dating show is crazy. But being on a dating show with your ex is insane and filled with nothing but headaches. Why didn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I smell the bullshit when it was practically staring me in the face?
There was no way I could have known.
